


Time Gone By

by SkyLynx



Category: DCU Animated
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyLynx/pseuds/SkyLynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman returns from patrol to find that he has vistors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Gone By

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are owned by DC/WB. No profit was made.

# Time Gone By

Bruce took a moment before climbing out of the Batmobile. His body ached. It hadn’t been a particularly difficult patrol but old injuries lingered and fresh bruises added new pains atop them. He felt tired. More tired than he had in a long time. Not since Tim… No, best not to think about Tim.

Slowly he levered himself out of the open door, placing his weight on one painful leg and then standing and shifting his weight to the other stiffened limb. He pulled back his cowl and stared out at the Batcave, cast in shadows and ominous glows.

He closed his eyes and drew in a breath, held it and then exhaled opening his eyes to gaze upon his wonders. 

Fuck he felt old. There was grey in hair now; wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, across his forehead and leading down from his mouth giving him a permanent frown. He always looked displeased even when he tried to smile. He should have smiled more, then he’d have laughter lines and his wrinkles would be something to be proud of, a testament to a life well lived.

His joints creaked when he started walking, his muscles protesting at him once again moving. They wanted rest; a hot bath, rubbed down and then sleep. When he was a young man he would have hurried from the car, striding purposefully to the main console. There he would have continued his work, his fight on crime, until the small hours of the morning or until Alfred chased him to bed with brisk concern and a firm healing hand. 

_Alfred…_

Best not to think about Alfred either. If Bruce was old then Alfred was something else entirely, though despite his age he still bustled about the manor, still performed most of his jobs though now at a slower pace. It scared Bruce to see Alfred grow older with each passing year, but it scared him more that Alfred’s energy made him feel old.

_Warriors aren’t meant to grow old._

Diana would roll her eyes at that. She would challenge him, telling him that a warrior is only as old as his deeds make him. Fierce pride would shine in her eyes as she did so, but Bruce would be able to see the concern lurking behind.

Clark would express his concern, and Bruce would see his resignation that Bruce was determined, no matter how old he was, to continue with his war against crime.

Both saw him grow older, but neither ever said so.

Bruce stopped at the main console. Alfred had left him some supper out. He sat in his chair and ate it silently while he reviewed case files. When he’d finished he went to change. He peeled off his armour, checking it meticulously for any wear or damage. His life depended upon the integrity of his equipment and so after every mission, no matter how tired or worn or injured he was, he checked it. Once satisfied that everything was in order, he finished stripping and stepped into the shower. 

His ribs were motley of old bruise, yellows, faint greens and the odd hue of blue lingered there. His right wrist was swollen slightly, and his forearm coming up in a fresh bruise. His left knee complained whenever he bent it, but it showed no signs of swelling or any other injury.

His shower finished he quickly dried off, pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms. He walked barefoot across the Batcave, running his hand through his still damp hair. He listed in his mind all he needed to do tomorrow; things Bruce Wayne would be expected at, meetings, dinners, dates; and what Batman needed to know, cases to pick up, leads to follow, Intel to check… It was actually looking to be a pretty light day.

“Lights off.” He paused on the stairwell a moment and waited the half second it took for lights to blink off, plunging the cave into near darkness. He could hear the ruffle of bats, the hum of the computers and the rush of water of the underground river that led from the cave to Gotham River. Nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

He made his way up to the manor. Alfred had left the lights on for him, but would have long gone to bed.

“An early night, Master Bruce?”

Bruce actually jumped. There weren’t many people who could sneak up on him, but somehow Alfred still managed it. He turned to face his old servant. “Why aren’t you in bed, old man?”

“I was. I just happened to require a drink.” Alfred stood with his hands folded in front of him. As usual his expression did not betray his thoughts. He didn’t stand as straight as he used to, there was a slight curve to his spine; more wrinkles to his face and his hair was thinner, but his moustache was still just as immaculate as it had been twenty years ago.

Bruce nodded. “Fine. Get your drink, and then go to bed.” He hadn’t meant to but there was a growl in his tone. Fortunately Alfred was used to it and didn’t take offense.

He turned towards the kitchen, pausing by the door and looking back at Bruce. “By the way Master Bruce, you have some visitors.”

Bruce paused at the base of the stairs, he looked back towards Alfred but he had already gone. Smiling softly he shook his head, if Alfred had got up for a drink then he was the queen of England.

He knew exactly what “visitors” meant.

He wasn’t sure if he was happy about the intrusion. Perhaps he was, somewhere deep down inside. His heart beat that little bit faster, his face felt a bit warmer, but he couldn’t shake that feeling that all he really wanted was to roll into bed and sleep. 

Suddenly his aches and pains seemed that bit more pronounced. Each step he took up the stairs felt like a task. He found himself gripping the banister and hauling himself up. By the time he reached the top his heart was hammering and his face was burning. He took his time heading towards his bedroom, half knowing what he would find.

He opened the door slowly and stepped into the dim room. The drapes were haphazardly drawn against the large windows, they were made of a thick heavy material and should have blocked out all light, but gaps were left and between them cut narrow strips of light. Bruce closed the door quietly behind him and moved closer to the bed. His eyes quickly became accustomed to the faint light.

The covers for the bed were kicked down, the occupants showing no care to their expense. Clark was on the far side, lying on his back. His short thick hair was mussed up as though someone had been running their fingers through it. His left arm was hidden behind the pillow that his head rested on while his other arm was stretched out towards the window. He was dressed in boxers and a get t-short that was pulled up slightly revealing a hint of toned muscle.

Next to him, lying face down, was Diana. Her arm was flung carelessly across Clark’s stomach, her face hidden by pillows. It had taken both Clark and Bruce quite some time to convince Diana to wear clothes in bed. She much preferred to be naked, railing against the prudishness of Man’s World, but having her lying next to them without anything on proved to be far too distracting, even to Bruce with his ironclad self-control. She was wearing a t-shirt, one of Bruce’s own from the looks of it; it was a little too large for her and rode up her legs revealing the curve of her bare buttocks. No amount of persuasion in the world could convince her to wear underwear.

Bruce watched them for a moment. They looked to be sleeping. He could hear their deep even breaths. Diana actually even snored a little, just slightly, though she would deny that she did if told about it. Of the two of them she was the more likely to be asleep.

Clark didn’t need to sleep. His body absorbed the yellow sun radiation and any rest he needed was derived from there. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t sleep though, just that it was a luxury for him though rather than a necessity.

Diana did need to sleep. Unlike a regular person though she only needed a small amount of it. Bruce estimated that she could go a full month without any sleep, or rest at all, before she started to feel any ill effects.

Despite their super hearing neither Clark nor Diana stirred. Bruce shuffled to the bed and sat on the edge of it, his back to the pair of them. His hands rested on his thighs, his shoulders hunched as he gazed down at the floor. It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad to see them just that it was unexpected. He found that these days he needed to mentally prepare himself for their visits.

He felt the mattress shift behind him, sinking down as one of them moved. He did not turn; he already knew who it was. He felt her body close in; the material of her shirt did not prevent him from enjoying the feel of her breasts squashed against his bare back. Diana’s hand slid round his waist, pressing flat against his stomach and sliding up his chest, coming to a rest over his heart. She pressed a single kiss to his shoulder and rested her chin there, her cheek touching his own.

“How was patrol?” She asked softly.

He had to swallow before answering. “Quiet. Perhaps too quiet.”

“Hmm.” He could hear the humour in her hum. He could also feel her heart beating slow and steady against his back, so unlike his own that was still hammering against his ribs and against her hands. When had he lost so much of his self control that a touch from her could have his heart racing? “You’re never content, Bruce. Stop seeing plots in everything. It was a quiet night that was all. Enjoy it.”

He smiled and turned to face her, pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was brief. She tasted sweet and faintly of cinnamon. She smiled back at him.

“Stop worrying,” she murmured. She kissed him, pressing her mouth hard against his, her tongue pushing against his lips. He groaned softly. She manoeuvred round him, straddling his lap, careful not to put her full weight on him. Her hand slid from his heart to his shoulder.

Clark didn’t stir behind them.

Bruce gripped her hips, turning them both so that he could lay her down on the bed. Once he could have done it without breaking the kiss, but those days seemed to be long behind him. She gasped, her breathing that little quicker, her eyes gleaming with lust. It pleased him that even at his age, looking as old and battered as he did, he could still ignite that within her.

How few years would it be before he could not?

She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes quizzical, searching him. Sometimes it seemed like she could see into his soul.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He kissed her quick and hard, his lips trailing down her neck. One hand groped at her breast while the other pulled her shirt up. He moved his lips to the hard, smooth skin of her stomach, his tongue trailing up and his teeth nipping. She squirmed beneath him. His lips found an already stiffened nipple and sucked on it greedily. He was rewarded by her gasping, arching herself up against him. 

He worked his hand down her body and between her legs, to where she was hot and wet, and this time he groaned at the feel of her as he slipped his fingers into her wet heat. Her hips rolled against his hand as he worked his fingers in her, curling his fingers, stroking her.

He was so hard his cock ached. He found himself slowly grinding against her leg to try and alleviate some of the pressure. All it did was excite him more.

His tongue lapped at her darkened nipple. He bit down, not gently. She hissed, arching nearly off of the bed, nearly throwing Bruce off of her. He pressed down on her hips. If she had been a normal woman she would have been forced back to the bed, but she wasn’t and so his pressing did nothing. She laughed, throaty and delicious, and then lowered herself to the bed, happy to let him have control over her.

He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her smile. Her eyes smouldered behind half-closed lids, her lips drawn back and her teeth showing. She licked at her lips and bucked her hips playfully. He got the message.

_Come on, Bruce. Don’t leave me waiting._

He steeled himself between her legs, drawing them about himself. He fumbled a moment with the ties for his pants, only now noticing that one of his fingers was cut and the nail blackened by a bruise. He shuffled the pants down his hips and thighs, his cock free at last. He couldn’t resist taking a moment to slide his hand down its length, his thumb running over the swollen head. Pre-cum seeped form the tip and he worked it down, groaning.

Looking back to Diana he could see her watching his actions, her eyes hungry.

He shuffled closer to her, nudging her legs further apart. Slowly, achingly slowly, he ran the tip of his manhood up and down her wet slit. She moaned low in her throat, her head tipping back and her eyes closing. She was biting her bottom lip. The sight of it made Bruce smile smugly.

He pushed himself into her opening, her warmth welcoming him, sucking him in. It was his turn to groan, to moan and shudder as he inched his way into her. She was velvet heat, strong muscles that grasped him, clenching him tight. He only stopped when his pelvis met hers. 

He let out a wheezed breath. It didn’t matter how many times they did this, it always felt like the first time.

She reached to him, her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down. She kissed him, her lips moving against his and her tongue lapping at his. She curled one leg around the small of his back, her hips pushing against him.

He grinned into the kiss, biting at her lips. She liked it when he did that. She liked it when he was that little bit rough with her. She liked it because Clark wouldn’t be, even though she so very much wanted him to. But despite the bite, tonight wasn’t the night for roughness.

He moved against her, his hips against hers. Their breath rasped out sharply as they picked up speed. He could feel her breath warm against his neck. He could hear her panting as her pleasure rose. He was grunting with the effort. He wasn’t going to last as long as he’d have liked. He was close, so very close. He shuddered as he came, his body stiffening above her as he spilled himself inside her. She gripped him close, her hand on his ass, pulling him deep into her. She clenched him, her hips still moving slowly against his even though he had stopped.

He collapsed on top of her, gasping. She moved her arms around him, her fingers trailing up and down his back. They remained like that a moment while he caught his breath. Then he pushed himself up, resting on his elbows. She smiled softly at him. He knew that she hadn’t climaxed but she didn’t at all seemed bothered by that, if she was then he knew fine well that she’d be demanding that he continue.

“Are you okay?” She asked, running her fingers through his hair.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem distracted.”

“Well you are a distracting woman.”

She laughed. He made to slide out of her and roll away but she held him there. “No, stay a moment. I like the feel of you.”

How could he ever refuse her? He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. “Alright.”

There was a snort of mock contempt. Bruce and Diana looked to the side. Clark was awake, lying on his side and watching them. “You two always leave me out.”

“Please!” Diana said rolling her eyes. “If anyone is left out then it’s me. You two and your boys club.”

Whatever moment Diana was hoping for was lost, so Bruce rolled away from her, lying down between her and Clark.

Clark moved closer, his hand resting on Bruce’s chest. “You look tired?” he sounded concerned. Typical Clark.

“Tch, it’s her.” Bruce jerked his head towards Diana. “She’s so demanding.”

Diana huffed and gave him a gentle shove. “I didn’t hear you complaining before.”

He looked at her. She was so beautiful. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, thick and heavy. Her blues eyes shone with humour and happiness. There wasn’t a line on her face. She could have been made from the finest porcelain or, he smiled, the most expensive clay. She looked so young even though she was hundreds of years his senior.

He looked to Clark. He was the same: young and beautiful to look at though he matched Bruce’s age. His baby blue eyes were pure and happy, but in them was the worry of all his responsibility, the concern for everyone and everything.

Bruce smiled. It felt good to have them both here with him.

Clark leant over him and captured his lips in a long kiss. No doubt happy to see Bruce smiling. He was of the opinion that Bruce didn’t smile enough.

Bruce could feel Diana watching them. Since they’d first started this all those years ago he had discovered that she was a bit of a voyeur.

It felt right. It felt good. And in this moment, with them both with him and happy, Bruce didn’t feel quite so old.

_End._


End file.
